A soul's lighthouse
by a.little.jem
Summary: Tag for 6x11. Sam hasn't spoken since he awoke with his soul returned, Dean is at a loss. What can he do to help? There must be something that will pull his baby brother back.


**I wanted to write something about 6x11 before supernatural returns in a couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear what you think about it. **

I obviously don't own supernatural.

* * *

Sam slept for three days after his agonized screams had faded away in the panic room. Dean and Bobby had moved Sam up into a bedroom after the first two days, because Bobby couldn't let Dean spend every waking moment in a plastic chair beside Sam's cot.

Dean had been thankful, though now he couldn't remember if he had thanked Bobby, at the time he had been so focused on Sam. He knew that Bobby understood, even if he was staying clear from the youngest Winchester. So Dean kept his constant vigil over his brother alone.

Despite Dean's unwavering watch Sam had not stirred, which only served to increase Dean's worry. Would his brother ever wake up?

On that third day, Dean had woken from a restless slumber with the acute feeling that something had changed. He cracked his heavy eyes open and glanced over at the bed that held his brother. Sam was lying in the same position as before, the only difference being that his hazel eyes were open, staring at the ceiling intently.

Dean's eyes snapped wide and he scrambled out of his bed over to his brothers side.

"Sam!" he called, resting his hand on his brother's forearm. "How are you feeling Sammy?"

Seconds ticked by and Sam did not move. His eyes did not even flicker towards the sound of his brother's voice; instead they remained focused on an unknown point on the ceiling.

Dean felt his heart pick up pace at Sam's unresponsiveness, Death's warning about what would happen if the wall came down playing in his head. He pulled away from his brother whispering "Bobby." Dean suddenly turned and screamed "Bobby!" in a tone that set the gruff hunter's hair on end.

Bobby bolted into the room; pausing for a moment to watch Dean desperately trying to get a reaction from his sibling and despite his anger Bobby's heart broke a little. To lose Sam after all they had risked getting him whole again seemed too unfair. Bobby began to move towards Dean's side to help the boy when Sam moved.

It happened so fast that neither Dean nor Bobby had time to react. Sam brushed aside Dean's frantic hands, stood up and walked without a word or a second glance into the washroom. Dean remained on the floor beside the empty bed, his arms still draped over the rumpled sheets, eyes focused on the wood of the closed door.

After a couple of moments, they heard the pinging of water as the shower was turned on. Dean heaved a sigh; perhaps Sam was going to be ok after all.

That had been five days ago, but Sam had not yet let a single sound slip from his lips and it was driving Dean crazy.

He had tried everything he could think of to get a reaction from Sam, begged, tricked, and annoyed but his brother simply sat staring ahead into space.

Dean would have taken him to a hospital if Sam hadn't been eating and sleeping. No, his brother was doing all the normal daily activities except talking to anyone.

Bobby wasn't being much help either, he kept telling Dean to give Sam time to work things out for himself. That the emotions he had to be dealing with would be pretty powerful after a year and Sam would need time to sort out what had occurred. Still Dean could not stop feelings of helplessness from washing over him every time he looked at Sam's blank expression.

On this particular day Bobby had decided that enough was enough. He had slapped a file folder in front of Dean at dinner informing him that Dean would be helping Bobby in wrapping up a salt and burn in a near by town. Dean had tried to protest, saying that he needed to look out for Sam, but Bobby had told him that his brother could stare at nothing with or without Dean standing over his shoulder.

With that the gruff older man, had left to go to the store to pick up some last minute supplies for the simple hunt, leaving Dean to tell his brother the news.

Dean walked up to where Sam was sitting on the porch. Dean sat down beside his brother and let out a heavy sigh when his presence was not even acknowledged.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean began, unsure of how to tell his sibling that he was leaving him, even if it was only for the night. He absently mindedly tapped the cover of the file containing the information about the hunt. "Sam," he started quietly, his voice breaking the silence that had fallen. "Bobby wants me to help him dig up the body of a ghost that is terrorizing people who live in it's house."

Dean scratched the back of his head, his eyes focused on his brother's blank face. "Come on Sam, give me something." He waited a moment without any response. "Great. You won't even try for me. I have been putting up with your calculating robo Sam act for months, and you can't even give me a couple of words. Shit Sam, are you that stubborn?" Dean yelled springing to his feet his anger mounting at every silent minute that ticked by.

Realizing that Sam was not going to even look at him, Dean whirled around and took off towards the impala. Climbing into the only thing that could possibly calm his anger down, Dean slammed the door and stuck the key in the ignition. The roar of the motor rumbled through Dean, steadying him. Still not calm enough to even hazard a glance in the direction of the porch, he threw the car into drive and tore out of the salvage yard like hellhounds were on his tail.

Dean clenched his fingers around the wheel of the impala, how could Sam just sit there? After everything that Dean had done for him his entire life, Sam felt that he could just sit there and attempt to send his brother to an institution.

Anger coursed through him and he lashed his fist out, slamming it down on the passenger's seat. A crisp wrinkling sound followed as his hand crumpled the file folder that he had not been aware that he had brought with him to the impala. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, then reached for the information about the hunt. It would be really nice to shoot something about now, he thought bitterly.

He flipped through the folder, not really paying attention to the details of the ghost's human life. At this point Dean just wanted to find out where the grave was and burn the evil thing into dust. Dean smiled devilishly when he found the page with the cemetery information. Screw waiting for Bobby, he could deal with this spirit alone. With that thought he pulled the impala back onto the road and headed towards the location.

The drive took him half an hour and by the time he reached the cemetery the sun had set. Dean grabbed his shotgun and a shovel, then strolled through the rows as if he was in a park. He found the plot quite easily, dropping the shotgun and taking off his coat, Dean bit the shovel into the soft dirt.

He worked undisturbed for about an hour, his anger at Sam fuelling his muscles into action. Years of experience told him that he should probably hit the wooden lid soon and he smiled to himself. Whoever said that he needed Sam? He was doing fine on his own.

Dean caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye; he grabbed the fallen shotgun and whirled around. The spirit was iridescent in the moonlight and it approached the person who was threatening it's existence as an animal stalking it's prey. Dean watched the spirit for a moment; it was too far away to pose a treat. He put the shotgun under his arm and continued his digging, keeping track of the location of the spirit out of the corner of his eye.

It was only when Dean felt the satisfying crack of the coffin lid that Casper sprang into action. Dean whirled to face the screaming mass that was careening his way and casually shot a round of rock salt into its form. The ghost form dissipated like smoke at Dean's attack and he smiled to himself as he turned back around towards the job at hand.

He came up short in surprise as the ghostly figure of the dead man stood directly behind him. A chilling grin could be clearly seen and Dean felt a wave of dread begin. This may not be so easy he thought idly, as he tried to point his gun at the spirit.

The spirit lifted its arm and Dean felt his feet leave the ground as an unseen force lifted him. The next thing he knew his was traveling through the air. A shot of pain ran up his side as he collided with the cool stone of a nearby tombstone. Dean groaned, wrapping one arm protectively around his ribs and forced himself to his feet.

He scanned the cemetery for any movement, but the spirit was no longer in sight. Dean sprang towards the opened grave, ignoring the protest of his injured ribs. He had to work fast now.

He was able to break open the casket and pour in the salt before a chill ran up his spin. His eyes darted around the area, years of hunting telling him to trust his instincts, the spirit was nearby.

As Dean reached for the lighter fluid a pale hand drove into his back. Dean cried out in pain, his knees buckling as he fell forward. The ghost pushed forward trying to break the skin and kill the man in its grip.

Dean tried to move beyond the pain, he needed to focus or he was going to die alone all because he was angry with Sam the mute. He stretched forward dumping the contents of the container into the grave. A shot of pain burst through him as the spirit hand dug deeper into his back. He fumbled for his lighter, the cool metal giving him a sense of relief that was completed only when the spark turned into a strong flame.

As the angry flames ate the corpse a whaling cry filled the air. Dean felt the pressure on his back leave in a rush as the spirit disappeared for good.

Dean lying on the damp earth gasping as pain pulsed through him. He couldn't see how bad the wound was. He needed help and Bobby was not going to be pleased when he heard about what Dean had added to his mountain of stupid this time.

Dean felt himself drifting off as he listened to the ringing of the cell phone. He cracked his eyes open when he realized that the ringing had stopped. Dean didn't remember hearing anyone answer but maybe he had missed it.

"Bobby?" he said surprised at how raspy and weak his voice sounded. "Bobby? Please help me. I'm at Mount Pleasant Cemetery. Please hurry." He groaned as another bolt of pain ran through his side. Somewhere he was aware of the fact that no one had answered, but Dean could only focus on getting help. "Please." He whimpered before the world fell away into darkness.

* * *

Sam felt crushing guilt from the moment that he had opened his eyes. He had blinked awake, memories floated through his mind. Memories of actions that he could not imagine committing had bombarded him.

Sam stared up at the ceiling; he could feel the cold weight of guilt spreading through him. He had hurt so many people. He had let Dean who had always given up everything for him be turned into a vampire. He had tried to kill Bobby, who had only ever treated him like a son.

Sam could feel Dean's presence by his side, he could vaguely hear his brother begging for him to look at him to say something, but he couldn't move. He lay there trying to push aside the guilt, but it had frozen him.

He walked though life the next couple of days, letting images of his sins consume him. He knew that Dean was trying to get him talk and part of him wanted to answer his brother. Sam longed to find comfort in the one person who had always been there for him since he was young.

He couldn't though; he couldn't take any help from his brother. He didn't deserve any kind of comfort, not after what he had been.

So Sam sat there and stared into space, too empty to move, to empty to do anything. He sat on the porch and didn't move when Dean stormed off, he didn't say anything when the impala roared out of the salvage yard. Sam just let a years worth of guilt seep into every crevice of his newly returned soul.

He turned his head when the phone rang for the third time. Slowly getting to his feet he walked over and picked the phone off the receiver more out of habit then any wish to talk to someone. He listened to the silence on the other end of the phone, slightly confused.

"Bobby?" Sam froze at the sound of his brother's voice, something was wrong. "Bobby? Please help me. I'm at Mount Pleasant Cemetery. Please hurry." Sam stared straight ahead and for the first time since he woke up it was not guilt that controlled his every sense. "Please." At the sound of Dean's pain filled plea Sam felt cold fear slide through his veins. Sam blinked his eyes and looked at the phone as the line went dead.

He had to help Dean.

The next twenty minutes were a blur, as Sam grabbed the first aid kit, hot wired one of Bobby's cars and drove down towards the cemetery hell bent on reaching his brother.

It was still dark when he arrived at the grave sight. He moved silently, unsure if the thing that had attacked his brother was still around.

Lying on the ground beside what seemed to be an open grave was a crumbled dark mass. Sam's heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the still figure. He stumbled and scrambled over to his brothers side.

Sam rolled Dean over with gentle hands and was shocked to see how pale his brother's face was in the moonlight. He shock him gently and again more forcefully when there was no reaction. All the while panic was festering in his system, starting to take over any guilt that he had felt before. Without realizing it Sam felt a cry of pure emotion rise up from deep inside and burst to the surface.

"Dean!" Sam called out, pressing one hand against the wound and shaking his brother's shoulder.

Dean's head rolled in the direction of Sam's voice, his eyes opening into green slits. Sam felt relief wash through him. "Dean come on man, you need to stay wake so that I can get you to the car." Sam's voice was rusty but sure, his entire focus on saving his brother.

Dean gave Sam a goofy smile and he nodded his head. "Ok, Sammy." He answered. Despite Dean's willingness to listen, Sam found that he had to take most of his brothers weight so that they could make it back to the impala.

The drive back to the salvage yard was done in silence. Dean was in too much pain to begin a conversation and Sam was too focused on keeping pressure on the cut to do anything else.

It was only when Sam had Dean safely in bed at Bobby's house, that he was able to get a good look at the wounds. The cut on his back was surprisingly shallow, though it seemed to have bleed a lot. An ugly bruise snaked around Dean's middle where he seemed to have cracked one of his ribs. Sam breathed a sigh of relief; these were problems that he could take care of here without having to go to the hospital. He moved quickly cleaning the wounds and wrapping them; all the while hoping that Dean would sleep through the uncomfortable part.

Sam sank onto the hard wooden chair feeling completely drained by the fear that was only now crawling away. It seemed that Dean would be okay, he just had to wake him up every two hours to check for a concussion.

The fear for his brother's life gone, a year worth of emotions sprang to the surface colliding into each other and leaving Sam with nothing to do but to fight back tears. Sam stood up and tried to move away from Dean's side before his tired brother noticed, but he stumbled around the chair knocking it to the ground.

Dean opened his eyes and looked at his over sized brother who was standing there with the expression of a puppy who had just been punished.

Dean's heart softened at the sight, shaking his head as Sam all but collapsed into the chair beside his bed. Dean reached out and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to show him that he was there.

Sam looked up with a startled expression, his face breaking into a smile when he saw that Dean seemed to be fully lucid. "Hey Dean." Sam spoke in a quiet voice. "I'm glad you woke up on your own. I needed to check for a concussion, but you always act like a werewolf when I do."

Dean's eyes widened at the sound of Sam's voice surprised at how sweet the taunting from the younger man was. After months of dealing with a calculating, unfeeling Sam, to have Sam poke fun at him and smiling genuinely seemed like it was part of a dream.

Dean smiled back at Sam, patting his arm gently. "I missed you Sammy."

The words were so simply, but they broke down the last of Sam's defences. The tears of guilt, fear and sadness that he had been holding at bay for five days would not be held back any longer. After everything that he had done to Dean, he still cared about him and wanted him around. Sam wouldn't have blamed him if Dean had never wanted to see him again but no, his brother missed him.

Sam bent forward as sobs that seemed to come from his soul, shook his entire form.

Dean watched his brother finally give into the emotions that he had been missing for over a year. Dean sighed and shook his head. "Oh Sammy." He said in a voice that showed that he wasn't upset at all. Dean moved over on the bed, opening up a space for his brother without saying a word, the Winchester way of offering comfort.

Sam understood what his brother was silently saying and crawled into the bed and laying beside Dean sniffling. Both men closed their eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, though for Sam the tears did not stop coming. Just having Dean near him was helping, the sobs continued to roll through him.

After a couple of minutes Dean swung an arm over his brother's body. To anyone else it would look as if Dean had moved in his sleep, but Sam knew that his brother was helping him just as he had when they had been kids.

Sam's sobs quieted and he drifted off to sleep knowing that despite what he may have done that Dean had forgiven him and was there for him. Now Sam had to take steps towards being able to gain the forgiveness of others, especially Bobby. A shudder ran up his spine at the thought that the older man would never accept him, but the pressure of Dean's arm across his chest calmed him. Dean would back him up and Sam would do anything to prove himself to his father figure.

* * *

An hour later found Bobby standing in the doorway of the room watching the brothers sleep soundly beside each other. From what he could tell they had started moving in the right direction. The road to healing was going to be difficult and he knew that it would be years before Sam would forgive himself for his actions. Still Bobby let out a sigh of contentment, his boys were finally back together and everything else could be dealt with later.

He crept silently out of the room, knowing that he would be back in an hour to wake them in case of concussions, because who knew what those idjits had gotten themselves into? Right now though, he would let the Winchesters take whatever comfort they could find in each other, they would need it for the days ahead.

The End

_Thanks for reading! - jem._


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